His Appointed Role
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: My take on Mycroft's POV at the end of TFP and just thereafter. He's always the big brother, even if he makes mistakes from time to time. On this occasion, he attempts to push things in the right directions. Perhaps sentiment is awful after all. For rin-is-sherlocked - oneshot


rin-is-sherlocked said: _I wish we could have heard the rest of Mycroft's sentence. Perhaps he, too, has been shipping Sherlolly all this time?_

 _He was just probably about to reassure Sherlock that he did the right thing, but hey, let's dream. Are there any fics on this? What do you think Mycroft is about to say?_

 _I gave it a stab! Big thanks to MizJoley for giving it a once-over. Find an error, it's mine!_

I own nothing, including the lines from The Final Problem.

* * *

"Sherlock, however hard that was…" Mycroft started.

"Eurus, I won. I won."

… _know that she will forgive you,_ he finished in his head. _She always does._

As their sister tormented Sherlock, Mycroft closed his eyes, wishing for a moment that there was some higher power with whom he could plead for assistance.

 _Of course there were no bombs! Damnit!_ He'd been just as convinced as his little brother. Eurus was certainly capable of it. Pacing away a few steps, he took a deep breath. This was far from over.

Eurus was still taunting… still rubbing salt into Sherlock's freshly opened wound.

The door opened and Mycroft started to move on to the next little test. Pausing in the doorway, he turned to find his brother carefully, almost reverently placing the lid on the coffin. _Oh, Sherlock… Don't…_

The rage was unsurprising; Sherlock never could keep his emotions fully concealed. There were times Mycroft even envied him for it. He stayed put, allowing John to deal with the overwrought man. This was not Mycroft's area of expertise, after all.

 _Vivisection is right, brother mine._

He watched John Watson put his brother to rights then help him up off the floor. It was the kind of relationship he and Sherlock would never have. His role had been clearly outlined from an early age: protector, enforcer and at times adversary. But never confidant; it was a line they simply couldn't cross.

 _I didn't protect him this time,_ he thought as Sherlock walked past him into the next room, making a smartarse remark to the psychopath on the monitor.

When his sister outlined the next part of her plan, he knew that he had to die.

He had tried to handle her for years, completely on his own, and he had failed. Dramatically. _Not the smart one, it seems._ It was a fitting end, he supposed, and he no doubt deserved it.

He then quickly, smoothly set about goading his baby brother - really, the only person other than his parents he'd ever truly cared for - to shoot him.

 _Come on, Sherlock, don't prolong my agony…_

* * *

Sherlock was in no shape to speak with Miss Hooper, so Mycroft asked Lestrade to drop him off at her flat after everything was wrapped up. He had no idea why the DI was so intent on being in his presence, but he didn't really mind. Greg was… interesting.

He knocked on the door, then took a step back. Seconds later she stood in front of him, looking as bad as he felt.

"Miss Hooper…"

"What the hell's going on?" she demanded.

"That is a very long story, and I'm sure my brother will fill you in at a later date. For the moment, however, I wonder if I could trouble you for a glass of cool water?"

Stepping into the flat, she motioned for him to enter. Once he was seated at the bar in her kitchen, she handed him a glass. After taking a long drink, he heaved a deep sigh and looked up at the troubled woman.

"First of all, you should know that what transpired this afternoon was not Sherlock's doing. For once he is… not at fault whatsoever."

She nodded.

"We have a sister." He paused, considering how much to tell her and how personal he should be with the woman. He barely knew her beyond a rather thick file of information kept in a locked drawer in his office. What he did know was that Sherlock cared for her, far more than either of them had ever admitted. _Until today, that is._ "She is deeply disturbed and has been playing with Sherlock, pulling him into a twisted game."

"Why?"

"It's what she does," he answered plainly. "When he made you say that…"

"You were there?"

"Yes, as well as John Watson."

She huffed out a bitter laugh, turned and walked a few steps away.

Mycroft stood and followed, stopping several feet behind her. "He had been led to believe that you were in imminent danger and that…"

Turning quickly, she cut him off, "That making me say _those words_ would somehow save me?" Tears pooled in her eyes. "It was some sort of key or code to stop… whatever he expected to happen?"

 _So, not just pretty but clever too. No wonder he loves you,_ he thought. "Indeed. He had no choice."

With a sniffle and a nod, she seemed to collect herself. "Saving people… it's what he does," she said bitterly. "Anything else I need to know, Mr. Holmes?"

"At some point in the recent past, your home was fitted with cameras. She was monitoring you as you spoke with him."

She sneered. "So that whole scene is on _tape_ somewhere? Lovely."

"I will take care of it, of course, as well as the cameras."

He turned, making his way to the front room. His job was done. As Miss Hooper opened the door, he stopped and studied her for a moment. He wanted to comfort her, assure her that the man she loved had meant what he'd been forced to say to her. But it wasn't his place - it wasn't his role. _Still…_

"Perhaps you'd like to see the video," he said, hoping she'd take the bait. This time he feared her forgiveness wouldn't be enough.

"Why… why would I want…?"

Tilting his head, he tried to give her a comforting smile. "You have no reason to trust me, I am aware of that, but I do believe that it would benefit both you and Sherlock if you could _see_ him as he spoke to you. If you could perhaps listen to him say those words again and try to do so with an open mind."

"But if…"

"And then if you could witness his reaction… after," he added. "After our sister disconnected the call. It _will_ add a certain level of context, I believe."

Molly eyed him wearily but nodded and said, "That might be a good idea."

Exhaling, Mycroft stepped over the threshold. "I'll have it sent to you. Try to get some rest, Molly," he said before leaving.

* * *

When pulled out his mobile to phone for a car, he found several text messages waiting…

 **Need to get those cameras out of Molly's flat - Sherlock**

 **Also need a detail on her building until we're sure Eurus didn't leave any loose ends lying about - Sherlock**

 **Actually I want her flat swept, just to make sure Eurus wasn't lying. She'll need a place to stay in the meantime - Sherlock**

His job wasn't finished after all. Though he'd already arranged for the sweep and removal of the surveillance equipment, he now needed to find Miss Hooper a safehouse. _Of course she'll need a detail._ He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that. Standing in front of her building, he was just about to phone Anthea to start making arrangements when he heard a familiar voice.

"Thought I was gonna have to come up and check on you," Lestrade said as he flicked his cigarette down and stomped it out. "She doing okay?"

"She's fine. You didn't have to wait for me, Detective Inspector."

The other man smiled. "S'alright. Let me give you a ride home."

"I, ah… need to call my assistant."

"Do it on the way. You look like you're about to fall over." He jerked his head toward the car, then put his hand on Mycroft's elbow, leading him in that direction.

It suddenly occurred to him why the man hadn't wanted to leave his side. "Sherlock put you up to this, didn't he?"

As he opened the door, Greg said, "You can't do everything on your own, Mycroft."

He could, of course. The question was, did he really want to?

* * *

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you liked it. ~Lil~


End file.
